


isn't that what life is made of?

by ShowMeAHero



Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [30]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Flashbacks, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, Parenthood, Past Character Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: Richie’s heart leaps in his chest, and he holds his hand out, his palm lined with the wrinkles from his pillow. Eddie’s told him multiple times he sleeps with his pillow clutched to his head and his chest when Eddie’s not in bed with him.He hasn’t forgotten what they’re doing today. He’s spent pretty much his entire life waiting for today, and that’s not an insignificant amount of time, forty-six years to Eddie’s forty-five, just two months off his own birthday. If anything, Richie’s trying not to think about what they’re doing today because if hedoes,he’ll explode. It’d be like looking directly into the sun; his eyeballs might just blow out of his head.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493912
Comments: 18
Kudos: 186





	isn't that what life is made of?

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ["I Think I Love You"](https://open.spotify.com/track/22vqiTM3mI3r4P1P2N4qUi) by The Partridge Family.
> 
> Tiny bit of a time jump here! But I think they deserve their nice wedding, and everyone deserves something soft to read right now.

_ 2016 _

Richie can hear someone knocking at his front door.

He knows what the sound means, but he still doesn’t move. The door isn’t locked; he figures whoever it is will go away or come in of their own accord. They don’t really need his say-so.

He’s correct, because the next thing he hears is the doorknob rattling, then clicking open. For a moment, he actually takes stock of himself, but there’s not much he can do in the half a minute it’ll take his visitor to walk down the hall to the living room. They’re gonna find him where he’s been sleeping on the sofa, surrounded by the clutter of a life he hasn’t bothered to clean up.

“Rich,” someone says. Richie tips his head back, squinting up until a face clarifies. It takes him another beat to place her as Arya, one of his writers. She’s been texting him a lot, but he hasn’t been replying. It’s not personal; he hasn’t replied to anyone. He’s not sure his phone even has a charge left anymore.

“Hey,” Richie answers, voice scratching. He looks around in vain for his glasses, but he misplaced them a couple days ago and hasn’t cared enough to actually find them. It’s something to do, anyways. “Did you need something?”

“Um, yes?” Arya tells him. “An explanation, maybe? Since you dropped off the fucking earth and have done exactly  _ nothing  _ since coming back?”

“Mm,” Richie grumbles, turning his face into the back of the couch. “Go away, man.”

“Get up.”

_ “No,”  _ Richie snaps, barely any heat behind his words. He hasn’t got the energy anymore. He twists to glare up at Arya as best as he can without his glasses. “Go away. Work for someone else, I don’t care.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Arya asks, “Are you firing me?”

“I’m telling you there’s nothing left to work for,” Richie says. “Think of it as like— a liquidation. But instead of a Pier One or whatever, the brand is Richie Tozier and there’s no jobs left. There’s nothing to sell, it’s  _ done.” _

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Arya demands. Richie sighs.

“I don’t know,” Richie replies. He honestly, truly does not know anymore. He just knows he’s tired. “Just go, I’m serious. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“So you don’t want me to write your shit anymore?” Arya asks. “Just to clarify. You’re gonna do this all yourself now.”

“I’m not planning to do anything,” Richie says, honest and exhausted. He turns back around, face into the couch, and adds, “And if I did ever try again, I’d have to write my own shit.”

“Why? You’re not that funny,” Arya tells him. Richie doesn’t move.

“Because people can tell it’s not mine,” Richie says. All he can think about is Eddie telling him  _ I knew it,  _ and he can’t tell someone else’s jokes anymore. An off-handed comment, and everything’s over.

“Fine,” Arya says. It’s the last thing she says before storming out, his front door slamming behind her. He doesn’t flinch; it’s not the first time it’s happened since he got back from Derry, and he’s sure it’s not going to be the last.

The one thought lingering in the back of his mind is Mike’s invitation. Richie had insisted on leaving Derry as soon as he could, just to get out of everyone’s hair; he could feel the impending breakdown and wanted to be far away from the remaining Losers when that happened. Before he’d left, Mike had told him he’s welcome to come back and visit anytime. He himself was going on a vacation, but Richie was welcome to visit the library even if Mike wasn’t there.

“Get out of the house,” Mike had said, when he’d made the offer. They don’t know much about each other as adults, but it had felt like Mike had known a hell of a lot about him when he said that.

Richie’s not sure he  _ wants  _ to get out of the house, is the thing. There’s nothing out there for him. He spent decades grasping for any kind of contact that would shuffle aside the loneliness, just to spend what seems now like… maybe twenty minutes total with Eddie, remembering what it was like not to be so fucking alone all the time.

Remembering his past was the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to Richie. He can’t go back now. He’s lost the one person he knew he’s ever actually loved and remembered that fact all in one go. There’s not really much else to do outside when that’s happened.

When he thinks about Mike’s offer, though, it makes his chest itch. Like he won’t be satisfied until he goes back to Derry.

“Fuck Derry,” Richie grumbles, voice muffled by the sofa cushions. Thinking about Eddie makes his skin crawl, tears burning his eyes and spilling down his face without prompting. He’s spent so much time doing this that it just  _ happens  _ now.

He tries to think about Eddie like he was when they were younger and happier, but he just keeps falling back to what Eddie looked like dead. With a heavy sigh, breath catching and breaking in the back of his throat, he curls his legs to his chest and buries his face in his knees. There’s nothing else to do.

His chest still itches, but he doesn’t have the energy for it right now. He’ll visit Mike later, soon, just— not yet. Not now. He’s not ready to be without Eddie right now.

* * *

_ 2022 _

Richie wakes with a jerk, eyes snapping open as he inhales sharply, jolting into wakefulness.

“Holy shit,” Eddie exclaims from across their bedroom. Richie jumps, groggy and still half-asleep as he groans and turns into his pillow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Richie tells him. His voice scratches his sleep, but smooths out when he clears his throat. When he fumbles for his glasses to get them on his face, he finds Eddie on the other side of their bedroom, near their mirror, already clearly showered. His hair’s slightly damp still, curling against the nap of his neck and along his temples, his hairline.

“Bad dream?” Eddie asks, tugging a pair of boxer-briefs up. They’re tight black against his skin, and Richie’s grateful he’s got his glasses on for the show.

“Lil’ bit,” he says. “What time’s it?”

“Just after six,” Eddie tells him, which makes Richie frown. “I couldn’t sleep, I’ve already done my Saturday routine twice this morning.”

Richie’s heart leaps in his chest, and he holds his hand out, his palm lined with the wrinkles from his pillow. Eddie’s told him multiple times he sleeps with his pillow clutched to his head and his chest when Eddie’s not in bed with him.

He hasn’t forgotten what they’re doing today. He’s spent pretty much his entire life waiting for today, and that’s not an insignificant amount of time, forty-six years to Eddie’s forty-five, just two months off his own birthday. If anything, Richie’s trying not to think about what they’re doing today because if he  _ does,  _ he’ll explode. It’d be like looking directly into the sun; his eyeballs might just blow out of his head.

Eddie takes Richie’s hand, threading their fingers together as he climbs up on the edge of their bed. Getting a king bed is the best thing that’s ever happened to Richie, he thinks, at least related to bed-size; he can’t thank Eddie enough for introducing him to the life of home ownership when your home is actually big enough to live in.

“How’re you feeling?” Richie asks. Eddie shrugs, swinging one leg in between Richie’s thighs and settling down on top of him, burying his face in Richie’s chest. Richie strokes his hair back, then runs his fingers down the strong line of Eddie’s spine.

“I’m worried things won’t go right,” Eddie confesses. “And I’m more worried that I’m going to be so worried worrying about everything that I won’t remember to enjoy myself.”

“You’re worried you’re going to be too worried to not worry?” Richie asks. Eddie lifts his head to glare at him. “Alright, fair. Can I mention that in my vows?”

“If your vows aren’t done yet, you’re not gonna need them anyways,” Eddie tells him, cracking a smile at the very end. Richie cups Eddie’s face in his palm to pull him up for a soft kiss. Eddie’s nose wrinkles, but he lets him kiss him anyways.

“No matter what happens today, we’ll be married at the end of it,” Richie reminds him.

“We’re already married.”

“Exactly,” Richie says. Eddie snorts a laugh, pulling back to settle his ear over Richie’s heart again, on his bare chest. It always seems to comfort him, so Richie just lets him, threading his fingers through Eddie’s soft hair over and over again. “So, we won’t be  _ unmarried  _ by the time the day’s over, right? It’s pretty much a big party. We’re already married.”

“But we didn’t have a  _ wedding,  _ Rich,” Eddie says, as if Richie’s somehow forgotten that fact. They’ve never gotten to do anything normally; he’s excited as fuck to give Eddie a wedding he’s hoping he’ll really enjoy. Eddie deserves that much, and he thinks he might also deserve it, too. He wants it, anyways, and that’s enough for them.

“Everything’s gonna go fine,” Richie tells him. “We’ve organized everything so,  _ so  _ perfectly, Eds. I can’t think of a single thing we have left to do, literally. All we gotta do at this point is show up.”

“But what if—”

“Then we’ll deal with it then,” Richie cuts him off. For a moment, neither of them says anything. Then, Eddie nods against his chest.

“You’re right,” Eddie says. He lifts his head, propping his chin up on Richie’s chest so he can look over his face. Those big, dark eyes flick from one of Richie’s to the other; it’s hard for Richie to see him this close up, but he makes his eyes focus so he can burn this moment into his memory. Eddie on the morning of their wedding day.  _ Fuck. _

“Can I take a picture of you?” Richie asks, and Eddie lightly smacks his shoulder. Richie laughs when he says, “I mean it! I should make a scrapbook of today. Actually, let’s go back to the shower and start over—”

“You can’t stage our wedding day photos,” Eddie argues.

“That’s the photographer’s job?” Richie asks. “I don’t see the problem here, get naked and back in the shower, let me get my camera—”

_ “Richie,”  _ Eddie laughs, pinning him down to the bed. He catches Richie’s face between his hands and kisses him hard; he can’t kiss him properly, though, because they’re both smiling too wide to commit to it.

Someone bangs on their bedroom door. Eddie sighs, rolling off of Richie, flat on his back next to him in bed.

“Come in,” Richie calls, shuffling to sit up. Riley all but kicks in the door, sprinting and diving into their bed before she crawls up Richie’s body to climb into his lap.

“Today’s the wedding!” she exclaims, grinning. She’s only just lost her first tooth, one of the bottom ones right in front, but it makes her smile adorable in a special kind of way. Richie has to tug her in and kiss her on the cheek for it.

“You excited?” Richie asks. She nods eagerly, face buried in his hair. “Are your sisters up yet?”

“I dunno,” Riley tells him. She peels herself off of him to jump off the bed and onto Eddie’s back before Richie can stop her.

“Alright, up and off,” Eddie tells her. She scales his back, then slides down his front, letting him catch her around the waist and drop her to the floor on all fours like a cat. “Will you go knock on their doors for us?”

“Yup!” Riley exclaims, sprinting from the room. Richie can’t fight the smile off his face before Eddie looks back to him.

“I think today might actually go okay,” Richie says. Outside the room, they can hear Riley’s footsteps thudding up the stairs, then down the second floor hallway. When Richie had first viewed the house and seen the three bedrooms on the second floor, he’d thought it’d be interesting; having the girls all on the same floor has proven to be complete chaos at the best of times. Richie kind of loves it, even if he and Eddie get headaches from it now and then. It’s what he thinks living with the Losers would’ve been like for him when he was little, so it’s nice to see his daughters having that with one another.

Upstairs, he hears Riley banging on someone’s door and shouting for them to wake up. Richie and Eddie are both quiet, waiting to see what’ll happen; after a moment, someone jumps out of their bed, then runs to their door.

“Shut  _ up!”  _ Audrey screams at her older sister. Richie sighs, hauling himself up and out of bed.

“I got it,” Richie says, heading for the door. “My fault for saying anything optimistic.”

“I’d say it’s not your fault, but I’m not taking any chances today,” Eddie tells him. Richie sticks his tongue out and gets Eddie’s tongue stuck out at him in return.

By the time he jogs up to the second floor, Audrey’s pulled Riley into a headlock, and Nora’s come out of her room just to glare at them both from her doorway.

“Alright, enough,” Richie announces loudly. He pulls Riley and Audrey apart, hoisting Audrey up onto his hip. “Good morning.”

“I wanna  _ sleep,”  _ Audrey snaps. Richie kisses her on the cheek, and she groans.

“A morning person you are not,” he says, setting her back on her feet. “Go downstairs and get ready to eat breakfast, okay?”

“Fine,” Audrey says, which is about all Richie can expect of her this early. She stomps off; after a moment where Richie nods towards the staircase, Riley follows her.

“Hi, Daddy,” Nora says. Richie scoops her up and kisses the top of her head.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs, burying his face in her curly hair. It’s all over the place, just like Eddie’s is when he first wakes up; Richie inhales deeply, then kisses her right at her hairline. “How’d you sleep?”

“Today’s gonna be good,” Nora tells him. Richie raises an eyebrow at her. “I had the dreams for today.”

Richie’s not entirely sure about the little things Nora comes up with like that, but he knows all he can do is encourage her. Besides, it’s not  _ that _ unlike the feelings Richie gets. Just… inclinations. Magically-based or otherwise.

“What did the dreams say you’d have for breakfast?” Richie asks. Nora thinks, then smiles a small, secret smile, like she thinks Richie won’t see it.

“M&Ms,” she answers.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. She nods, so he flips her over his shoulder, holding her like a sack of potatoes. She shrieks a laugh; he drops his head down, twisting to look at her under his arm. “Did you actually?”

_ “No!”  _ she confesses, loud and high. She screams when he lets her slide down to the floor, laying her down on her back. Neither she nor he are as agile as Riley and Eddie, but they’ve got their own thing going on instead. “Can I, though?”

“Maybe a couple,” he allows. She grins and jumps to her feet, grabbing his hand to tug him downstairs.

* * *

Recently, Richie has the sort of days he only ever saw on television as a kid.

When he was a little kid, his mornings mostly consisted of sleeping through his alarm, hurriedly grabbing his shit for school, and running out the door. Nobody woke him up; Claire was already gone by the time he’d stumble downstairs, so he couldn’t get a ride if he missed the bus. He usually didn’t eat breakfast, at least not at home. Sometimes Eddie or Ben would bring snacks, once they caught on, but that’s it.

Now, his mornings are a lot more deliberate. He cooks breakfast while Eddie wrangles the girls into their seats and gets them their juice; they actually sit and talk about what they’re going to do today while they eat normal food. Nobody runs out the door, nobody has to mooch fruit snacks off their friends, nobody misses the start of a day because nobody cared to wake them up.

Their mornings take place together, for the most part. Riley’s gotten old enough that she dresses herself, brushes her own teeth, gets herself together most of the way; Audrey and Nora need more help, but they’re not helpless. Not anymore. It’s amazing, but also incredibly vexing; thinking about it too long makes Richie feel like he’s got vertigo.

Today’s a little bit different by necessity. Breakfast is all the same, but nobody’s showering, and Riley and Audrey have already had their hair done two days ago.

“I can get them into their dresses while you give Nora her bath,” Eddie suggests while they’re piling dishes into the dishwasher, and Richie agrees. Their wedding’s set to start at one o’clock, with the reception starting at two and ending at seven, in deference to the amount of kids going and to the fact that the couple getting married is in their mid-40s. When choosing the time, Richie had declared, “Late weddings are for young people,” and Eddie had laughed at him.

Nora frowns up at him from the bathtub in the second-floor bathroom. She’s got suds all up in her hair, which negates most of the scowl, but she still looks righteously pissed.

“How come I have to wash my hair?” she complains. Richie covers her eyes with his hands, waiting until she holds her breath before he pours water over her head.

“Because you’ve got your dad’s hair,” Richie says, “and it’s gonna be a mess if I don’t condition it and braid it myself this morning.”

“They don’t have to,” Nora grumbles.

“Your sisters have different hair than you,” Richie reminds her. “But they’re getting dressed right now, so they’ll have to be in the dresses longer than you. That’s nice, right? You’ll probably be more comfortable than them.”

Nora considers this, then concedes. “I guess so.”

“That’s my girl,” Richie says. “Nice and vindictive. Hold your breath.”

Nora does as told, and he finishes rinsing her off. She puts up more of a verbal fuss than anything; it’s easy enough to get her dried and kneeling down in front of him so he can braid her hair while he’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

She has dozens of tiny curls all along her hairline just like Eddie does, springing free of the braids he twists her hair into, but he thinks it’s cute, so he leaves them. He even pulls a couple of longer ringlets free next to her face before he ties the braids off, to frame her face.

“You look so grown-up,” he tells her, because she does. She’s the baby, but when she’s looking up at him like this with Eddie’s big dark eyes, wiser than he thinks he even recognizes, he realizes she’s growing up, too. Just like the rest of them.

“I’m not a grown-up,” Nora argues, indignant. It’s exactly what Richie needs to hear.

“You’re right, you’re not,” he allows. He scoops her up in her towel, kissing her loudly on the cheek. “That’s why I’ve gotta help you get in your dress, right?”

Nora groans, but he knows she’s excited to dress up as much as her sisters are. It’s more like a costume to her, but she’s excited all the same.

They decided on pink and white for their wedding colors; their shade ended up being a dusky rose-pink, and they both got ties and pocket squares in the same color. The girls all have dresses in the same shade, too, but they don’t match exactly. They decided to let them pick out their own dresses, as long as they were the right color.

Nora’s dress is lacy all along the top and just falls down in a straight line to her knees. She picked it because it was easy to run around in; Richie had gotten a kick out of watching her sprint back and forth across the length of the dressing room while she was trying dresses on.

“Oh, look at you,” Richie says, once she’s got the dress on. He helps her slip her shoes on and buckle them up, then steps back to survey her.

“What about my necklace?” Nora asks. There are tears burning in the back of Richie’s eyes just looking at her.

“We’ll put your jewelry on once we’re ready to head out,” Richie tells her, voice breaking. “You’re gonna lose it otherwise.”

“Daddy?” Nora asks. Richie takes a knee and opens his arms, and she goes right to him, folding herself into his chest.

“I’m just really excited for today,” Richie assures her. She loops her arms around his neck and lets him scoop her up off the ground. “It’s gonna be a lot of fun, right?”

“I’m excited,” Nora tells him. Richie smacks a kiss on her forehead.

“Let’s check on your sisters,” Richie says, trying to choke back the tears.

It’s useless, because as soon as he sees Riley and Audrey, he loses it completely. He sets Nora down next to her sisters, lets Eddie line them up so Richie can look them over for himself.

Riley went more dramatic; the top of her pink dress has a high collar that goes partway up her throat, and the hem is all the way down at her ankles. Like Nora’s dress, though, it doesn’t have sleeves, in deference to the July heat. Audrey’s pink dress fits to her little hips and flares out in a skirt, embroidered flowers all around the waist and the hems and the edges of the sleeves; she’d lost her  _ shit  _ when she saw all the flowers, and Richie had been incredibly grateful that the dress was the right color.

“Holy shit,” Richie says, because there’s not much else  _ to  _ say.

Eddie’s thrown on his dress shirt, at some point, so he just stands behind them in that, his boxer-briefs, and his socks, half-dressed as he presents their daughters to Richie.

They’re like a mini version of the Von Trapps, all lined up and coordinated like this. Their big dark eyes look up at him as he scrubs at his face with his hands, digging the heels into his eye sockets as he takes a deep breath.

“Wow, I fucking love you guys,” Richie tells them, voice cracking again. Eddie comes around to put his hand on Richie’s arm.

“Don’t say  _ fuck,”  _ Audrey reminds him sternly. Richie huffs a laugh as Eddie turns his face into his throat, stroking Richie’s hair back.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Richie says, because these are his daughters with Eddie Kaspbrak, and they’re dressed— exactly how they wanna be, in dresses they picked out themselves, for his  _ wedding.  _ To  _ Eddie Kaspbrak. _

“Believe it, buddy,” Eddie tells him, grinning.

“Shit was really bad before, Eddie,” Richie says anyways, because he needs Eddie to really  _ understand.  _ He wants Eddie to get how much he never thought he’d have this.

“I know,” Eddie answers, and Richie remembers that Eddie  _ does  _ know, because he was in the same boat. He wants this just as bad; Richie has to remind himself of that constantly, but it’s true. He knows it’s true. Eddie says it all the time, and Eddie doesn’t lie to him.

“I still haven’t even showered,” Richie confesses, hiccuping. Eddie lightly smacks him on the arm, then turns him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go clean yourself and get ready, I’m not marrying Bigfoot,” Eddie orders him. Richie’s heart races; he feels impossibly warm as he kisses Eddie on the cheek with a smile and goes to do as he’s told.

* * *

Even though logistics necessitated Richie and Eddie spending the night before their wedding together — those logistics mostly being their three shared children and the fact that they’re already married — they still get separated upon arriving at their venue.

“You’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding,” Ben insists. “It’s tradition.”

“We’ve seen a whole lot of each other before the wedding,” Richie answers, and gets Eddie’s sharp elbow in his ribs for his troubles.

“Go get yourself ready,” Patty tells them. She’s got Ezra on her hip, already in his tiny suit. Richie wants to cry all over again seeing him.

“You sure?” Eddie asks, even though he’s already passing Audrey off into her other arm. Stan takes Riley’s hand and brushes lint off her sleeve.

“Yes, we’re sure, go with Bev,” Stan says. Bev doesn’t need any more prompting than that to steal Eddie away, Jem on her hip as she takes Eddie’s wrist in her free hand.

“I’ll be back to check on you,” Bev tells Richie pointedly before she goes. She looks to Ben and says, “Help him, please?”

“I’m capable of dressing myself!” Richie exclaims. He motions down to himself with one arm, to his button-down shirt and his dress slacks. “I’m already most of the way there, see!”

Ben takes Nora from him and passes her off to Stan, too, before hooking his fingers around Richie’s elbow. “Let’s go, c’mon.”

Bill jogs off to join Bev and Eddie, leaving Ben and Richie alone to find someplace he can finish getting ready, too. The last glimpse of Eddie that Richie gets is dark eyes looking over Bill’s shoulder to seek out Richie’s face before disappearing around the corner.

They chose to get married in the garden of a park two towns over, because they had a family vote and the garden won. They must hold a lot of weddings, because they have a small building entirely devoted to preparation for weddings, and a separate high-ceiling building next door to be used as a reception hall afterwards.

Since Eddie’s already commandeered the room with the plaque that says  _ Groom’s Suite  _ on the outside, Richie gets the one that says  _ Bridal Suite.  _ Ben makes him take a picture with it before actually helping him into his suit.

Ben has to tie his tie for him, mostly because Richie’s hands are shaking too badly to do it in the mirror. It’s Ben who has to comb his hair back, too, and button his cufflinks. He carefully arranges Richie’s pocket square before stepping back to analyze him. Ben looks much better than whatever Richie’s sure he’ll see when he looks in the mirror, but he tries to remind himself it doesn’t matter, because it’s his wedding.

It’s his wedding to Eddie Kaspbrak, specifically, who looks fucking phenomenal in a suit and is gonna outshine everybody else instantly. Richie knows it, he’s accepted it; he’s just hoping he’ll manage to make it through the ceremony without passing out because of it.

“You look really good, Rich,” Ben comments, dusting invisible lint off the broad lines of Richie’s shoulders. He steps back, surveys him. After a moment, he smiles. Richie can’t help but smile back in response, instinctive. “Happy, too. Really happy.”

“I  _ am  _ really happy,” Richie tells him. “Imagine telling little ten-year-old shithead Richie Tozier that he’d get to marry Eddie Kaspbrak someday. In some gay fucking garden, with our three— really,  _ really  _ cool kids. Did you see them? They picked those dresses out themselves, they look amazing.”

“You deserve this,” Ben says. Richie sniffles again, wiping at his face with the backs of his wrists.

“Ten-year-old shithead Richie would’ve probably exploded,” Richie continues, smiling even through the tears. “Just,  _ kablam.  _ Blood and guts everywhere.”

“The journey of a million miles begins with a single step?” Ben offers. Richie huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes before he looks to him. “I don’t know, I don’t really have advice. You’re already married.”

“I know,” Richie says. “It just feels like…  _ Whoo,  _ y’know?”

“I know,” Ben echoes. “Sometimes I remember how many years I spent without Bev and Jem and I just wanna cry.”

“Just a couple of crybabies,” Richie laughs, and Ben smiles, tugging Richie in for a tight hug. For a long moment, they just stand there and hold each other tight; Richie wills his heart rate and breathing to slow down and match Ben’s.

A sharp knock at the door breaks them apart before Bev sticks her head in. “How’s it going in here?”

“I’m crying,” Richie tells her.

“What else is new?” she asks, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. Jem’s still set on her hip, half-asleep with her head on Bev’s shoulder. Bev takes a moment to look Richie over, motioning for him to spin so she can see all sides.

“So?” Richie asks. “Survey says?”

“You look really good, Richie,” Bev tells him. “I was right, this cut is really good for you. Come see.”

Richie steps around Ben to look himself over in the full-length mirror set into the wall. She’s right; the tux compliments him well. He almost feels like he won’t look completely ridiculous next to Eddie.

“You’re ready?” Bev asks. Richie exhales sharply, looking to Ben instead, tears burning in his eyes.

“You’re gonna be okay, Rich,” Ben reminds him. “You’re already married, remember? This isn’t gonna change anything.”

“But I’m getting  _ married,”  _ Richie points out desperately. “To  _ Eddie.” _

Ben laughs and hugs him again. Richie melts into it, just for a moment, before he lets Ben spin him around and push him towards the door.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Richie finally answers Bev. She kisses him on the cheek.

“I know you are,” she says. She squeezes his hand, then tugs him towards the door, closer to actually getting married by the second. It’s past noon already; his heart races like he’s eighteen and not forty-six, marrying a man he’s already married to.

He’s doesn’t actually see anybody until Bev and Ben have properly escorted him all the way to the garden. Just about none of their family is there — two of Eddie’s cousins came when half-heartedly invited, and Eddie’s not even sure why — but they’ve got enough friends to fill out the benches. The Losers are all up front, dressed to the nines in shades of pink themselves. Richie can hardly process everyone in the actual setting: the flowers overflowing with blooms and spilling into walkways pale in comparison to how amazing the Losers look, to him, and all of that is  _ nothing  _ compared to seeing Eddie.

Eddie’s already arrived, waiting at the entrance to the garden. He’s crouched down and speaking softly to Riley; Audrey’s standing next to him, sucking her thumb and staring at a bumblebee buzzing around a rosebush, while Nora uses her shoe to stomp a loose pebble down in the walkway. Richie beelines straight to them, already in tears again.

“Look at how amazing you look,” Richie says, making Eddie’s head snap up. He grins automatically at seeing and hearing Richie, and that realization alone makes Richie’s heart flip over in his chest.

He’s right, too; Eddie’s suit clings to his strong shoulders, dips in at his waist, cuts a fine line down his legs. When he stands up straight, Richie can’t help but set his hands directly against Eddie’s chest, palms flat over his pecs.

“I love you,” Richie says, because it’s important. Eddie grins up at him.

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies. They kiss, for a brief moment, before Eddie separates them to look Richie over, too. “You look— Rich, you look really nice.”

_ “Thank  _ you,” Richie says, stepping back and curtsies. Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks pink, still smiling.

Bev ducks her head inside and motions to their DJ, and the music swells up. Stan slips back to the other side of the garden’s huge archway entrance, carefully joining them where they’re hidden on the other side, and asks, “You’re ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Richie tells him. He holds out his hand, and Riley runs right to him, grabbing his hand tight in hers.

Ben goes down the aisle first with Nora’s hand in his. She squirms at one point to try and run the rest of the way down, but when she looks back over her shoulder to see how Richie and Eddie are responding to her, she calms down. She makes eye contact with Richie and seems to visibly sigh before turning back to Stan and letting him lead her the rest of the way.

Audrey’s entrance is less eventful; she lets Bill take her hand and guide her in, but she gets shy halfway through and comes to a dead halt. Bill has to stop and lift her up to get her all the way down to the floral chuppah at the end of the aisle.

Stan and Riley make it down the aisle without a hitch. Stan deposits Riley up underneath the chuppah with her sisters and Mike, waiting to be their officiant. He looks amazing, too, his suit fitting him much better than Bill’s fits him; Richie makes a mental note to make fun of Bill for that later. He was right, though; for however amazing Mike and Ben and Bev look — which is  _ amazing,  _ well and truly, Richie doesn’t know how all his friends became supermodels in adulthood but good for them — Eddie still looks better.

Richie’s eye is drawn right to him when Eddie goes down the aisle, but when isn’t he drawn to Eddie? Seeing everyone else watching him, watching the smiles on their faces and the open joy and happiness and pride of their chosen family as they take in  _ Eddie’s  _ joy and happiness and pride, it’s almost too much. The fact that Eddie’s hotter than blue blazes only exacerbates everything; with his dusky-rose tie bringing out the pink in his cheeks, his dark eyes stand out even more, so much so that Richie can make eye contact with him from opposite ends of the aisle.

It’s his turn, finally. Richie struggles to keep pace, but he can see Patty slipping back into her seat, and Eddie and the girls are at the end of the aisle, and his heart starts to  _ pound.  _ The only thing standing between him and his wedding with Eddie, now, is his own speed.

He all but runs the last few yards to the chuppah, drawing laughs from a few of their friends. Eddie himself just smiles; he lets Richie twine their fingers together once they’re within reach of one another.

At their feet, Riley loops her little left hand through one of the belt loops on Eddie’s dress pants. Audrey clings to the end of Richie’s jacket; Nora sits down right at Mike’s feet, on top of his shoes, and watches them impatiently. It couldn’t be more perfect if Richie had been able to plan it inch by inch, he thinks.

It’s even better that the sun is shining brilliantly on the other side of the drapes keeping them protected from the glare. The garden’s filled with bright blooms and hanging curtains like a canvas roof above their heads, but Richie’s zeroed in on Eddie. All on Eddie, right now.

“Hey there,” Eddie whispers. Richie huffs a laugh, the knot in this throat feeling thick as he tries not to start really crying just yet.

“Hi,” Richie replies softly. His voice cracks, but he manages to keep it together. “I think I’m gonna shit myself.”

Eddie laughs, turning away to get himself back under control. When he looks back to Richie, he says,  _ “Stop,  _ I’m gonna look fucking stupid in all the pictures.”

“If you  _ both  _ stop I can actually marry you,” Mike points out. Richie laughs as Eddie takes a deep breath to get himself under control.

“Always the voice of reason, aren’t you, Jiminy?” Richie asks. “Go ahead, marry us.”

Mike switches on the microphone they’ve been given, tapping it to make sure it’s working. The speakers through the garden echo his  _ thump, thump  _ before he says, “Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Good afternoon!” Ezra calls back from the audience. Richie laughs again, looking out to see him. He’s met with an eager wave from Ezra, and he and Eddie both return it.

“So, as we all know,” Mike starts. “We’re gathered here today because these two have decided being married already isn’t enough, they have to make us all  _ watch _ them get married.”

Richie smiles at Eddie, gets a smile right back. He brings Eddie’s hand up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of it before holding it to his chest, squeezing it tight. It’s just as much for him as it is for Eddie if not moreso; he holds it tighter to hide his hands shaking. Eddie catches his eye and mouths,  _ You’re doing so good.  _ Richie’s skin prickles, his chest itching in the way he knows means he’s doing something he  _ needs _ to be doing.

“But we’ve all earned it,” Mike continues. “Because we spent most of our childhood watching them flirting with each other, dancing around each other. Lots of people say they don’t know how to explain homosexuality to their kids, but we didn’t need it explained to us, we already knew Richie and Eddie.”

Richie laughs, wiping at his face. He doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand, though.

“But that’s how we know they’re meant to be together,” Mike says. “Because they’ve loved each other since we were little kids and didn’t really have much else to base love off of. I never forgot them, even after they moved away from Derry, and I can tell you that the kind of love I searched for in my life was the kind they had for each other, even then. Unapologetic and natural and authentic and  _ real.” _

“Jesus, Mike,” Richie mumbles, scrubbing the heel of his hand across his eyes again. Eddie pinches his hand.

“It’s a  _ wedding,”  _ Eddie hisses. “You can’t say  _ Jesus.” _

“It’s a  _ Jewish  _ wedding,” Richie says. “And even then, like, barely.”

“Focus up,” Mike tells them, and Richie laughs again, motioning for Mike to continue. Their audience laughs, too, especially when Mike adds, “As you can tell, they’re pretty much meant to be. I spent a lot of time thinking about them when we were apart, and knowing that they came back together after everything and seeing the life they’ve built together… I couldn’t be happier, knowing everything they’ve done to get to this point. It makes me feel honored to be standing up here with them.”

Richie sniffles again, ducking his head. Mike reaches out to pat him on the shoulder.

They’ve forgone most traditional aspects of the wedding. They cut out the wine in deference to Richie’s recovery; there’s no need to sign a marriage contract when they’re already married; they already wear rings, even. They have decided to make one small concession in those terms, though.

Richie takes his ring off and passes it over to Eddie, dropping it into his open, waiting hand when Mike tells him to. Eddie does the same, easily slipping his ring off and setting it right in the center of Richie’s broad palm. Richie folds his fingers around it; it’s still warm from Eddie’s skin.

“Who’s gonna go first?” Mike asks. Richie holds out his hand, and Eddie does the same for rock-paper-scissors. On the first round, they both throw scissors; on the second try, Eddie throws rock when Richie throws scissors a second time.

“Me,” Eddie says, squaring his shoulders. He takes a deep breath before looking Richie right in the eye. Richie just fucking  _ melts.  _ “Richie—”

“Hi,” Richie says. Eddie tries not to smile and fails; the corners of his lips turn up as he bites back a laugh.

“Hi,” Eddie replies. “I didn’t know what love was before I met you.”

“Right out of the fucking gate, huh?” Richie asks, unable to stop his voice from cracking as he starts to cry. He’d hoped to make it through his own vows, but he should’ve realized that would be impossible the second Eddie started talking.

“Let me  _ finish,”  _ Eddie insists, still smiling. “I’m really glad I know you because you showed me that love wasn’t supposed to be controlling and harsh and— I don’t know, whatever it was in my house. You’ve always just loved me for me and never wanted to change me or control me, you just… loved  _ me.  _ Because you saw something worth loving in me. And I can’t thank you enough for that, but I can love you, too.” Eddie smiles, and Richie’s heart just falls to  _ pieces.  _ “And since these are my vows, I can tell you that I promise I’m always  _ going  _ to love you. And that I’m going to be patient with you, and that I’m always going to make you happy. I know you’re going to do the same thing with me, and I can’t—” Eddie pauses, takes a deep breath. He’s got tears streaming down his face, too, when he says, “I couldn’t have imagined what a real, happy life would look like for me, when I was— For all those years. I didn’t know what I could have. I wouldn’t trade a single inch of my life for what I’ve been able to have right now, Richie.”

Richie presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and tries to get himself under control, but all he manages is a wet laugh before he says, soft enough that only Eddie can hear, “You’re killing me, Eds.”

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, just as quiet. “I’ll tell you a thousand fucking times in a row, I love you. I  _ love  _ you.”

“I got you,” Richie says. He lifts his head and pulls Eddie in for a kiss, drawing a soft sigh of  _ aww  _ from their watching audience.

“I thought I was supposed to make that call,” Mike comments. Richie huffs a laugh and separates them, breaking their kiss apart. “Alright, Rich, your turn. Good luck.”

“Don’t worry, I just hired someone else to write my vows,” Richie jokes through his slowing tears. Eddie smacks him on the arm. “No, seriously, I wrote my own, I swear. You’ll be able to tell, they’re rough.”

Eddie’s memory is better than Richie’s, so Richie wrote down his vows on notepaper and kept them folded up inside his suit jacket. He pulls the papers out now and unfolds them so he can read the notes he took for this.

“Eddie,” he says, looking down at the paper. He hesitates, then takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and centering himself until he feels like he’s not about to fall apart at the seams anymore. When he opens his eyes again, he’s steady enough to actually look at Eddie’s face, this time.

Eddie looks mildly amused, a smile still at the edges of his lips, but his face is still tear-stained, cheeks wet and eyes red, and he sniffles a little bit when Richie makes eye contact. Richie reaches out and tangles their fingers together again, only one shaking hand clutching his notes close for him to read.

“Eds, you’re my world,” Richie starts, squeezing his hand. “Without you, I don’t know who or what I’d be, but I know it’s not half as good as who I am with you. When I lost you, my whole world fell apart, and I know now that— that there’s a lot of people out there, and a lot of them are gonna be shitty and some are even gonna be nice, but the people that really get you— I mean, you know, the people that really get  _ me,  _ they’re gonna be few and far between. And if you’re lucky enough in your life, you get one person who understands you more than anything.” Richie brings Eddie’s hand up to his mouth again, kisses the side of near the knob-bone of his wrist, and tells him, “I’m even luckier than that, because I found my soulmate and I didn’t even have to look all that hard. He grew up right down the street from me.”

“Rich,” Eddie says, softly. Richie has to swallow back the lump in his throat when he hears that if he wants to make it through the rest of what he wants to say.

“Eddie, I love you more than anything,” Richie tells him. “Living a life without you literally isn’t an option to me anymore. Even when I wasn’t with you, I still remembered you. My heart’s always remembered you. And I’m never gonna let you go, ever. I promise I’m always gonna take care of you, and make you happy, and show you just how amazing you are every day. Because you are amazing and you  _ do  _ deserve someone showing you you’re worth loving. You’re  _ more  _ than worth loving. You’re my everything.”

Eddie leans in first this time, catching Richie in a soft kiss, slightly off-center. Richie lets his eyes drift shut as he kisses Eddie gently,  _ gently,  _ and then slowly pulls away.

“Now, you’ve gotta repeat after me,” Mike tells them. They’ve written their own versions of the rest of the ceremony, too; now that it’s time for them to exchange rings, Mike says, “Eddie, you go first. ‘With this ring, I bind you to me and me to you forever.’”

Richie holds Eddie’s ring tightly in the balled fist of his right hand as Eddie takes his left. He carefully slips Richie’s ring back onto his ringer finger and says, “With this ring, I bind you to me and me to you forever.”

Richie smiles, starting to cry again when Mike says, “Richie, your turn. ‘With this ring, I bind you to me and me to you forever.’”

“With this ring,” Richie starts, then has to stop and catch his breath before it cracks again. He takes up Eddie’s hand and slides his ring on, finishing with, “I bind you to me and me to you forever.”

“Good work,” Mike says, smiling when Richie looks to him with a laugh. “Both of you repeat after me, now. Ready?”

Richie says, “Ready, Eddie?” just to make him laugh, his heart pounding when it works. Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Eddie tells him.

“‘I am my beloved and my beloved is mine,’” Mike says, waiting until they repeat after him before continuing. “‘I swear to support you as my blood. I promise to love you unconditionally. I vow to be by your side forever.’”

When Richie repeats the words at the same time as Eddie, he almost feels like they’re repeating after a teacher in class. The words really sink in as he says them, though, and his hands start shaking all over again. It’s easy enough to get lost in how comfortable and familiar Eddie is and to forget what they’re actually doing here, but they’re getting  _ married.  _ They’re swearing to each other that they’ll love each other forever in front of everyone that matters to them.

That thought finally pushes him the rest of the way over the edge, and he dissolves completely into tears when he tells Eddie, just a beat behind him, “I vow to be by your side forever.”

“Mazel tov,” Mike tells them, grinning. “You’re now officially double-married. You may kiss the groom again.”

Richie surges forward, cupping Eddie’s face in his hands and bringing him as close as he can to kiss him deeply. Eddie’s the one who parts his lips first, his hands resting flat against Richie’s chest as his back bows just a bit to push him closer into Richie instinctively. Richie tips his head, licks behind Eddie’s teeth; Eddie smiles as his hands come up to hold Richie close, too, the corners of his jaw digging into the soft centers of Eddie’s palms.

“Daddy,  _ please,”  _ Nora says loudly. “It’s  _ done.” _

Richie laughs, pulling away from Eddie to look down at their daughter. She’s frowning up at Richie, but she looks to Eddie when he gives her attention, too.

“Can we eat now?” Nora asks. Eddie cracks a smile, too, looking up to Richie.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Richie says, crouching down to scoop Nora up onto his hip.

“Alright, fine,” Eddie says, grinning. Richie takes the microphone from Mike.

“Nora says the ceremony’s over, reception’s starting now,” Richie announces into the microphone. Nora shrieks with laughter, covering her face with her hands before burying her face in Richie’s chest. Richie hears Georgie laughing first, funny enough, before Ezra jumps up on Stan’s lap and starts clapping like a madman. He gets all their guests to clap until Richie’s in tears again, smiling even as he cries into Nora’s dress.

* * *

“Remember that movie where Eugene Levy has two left feet?” Eddie asks, letting Richie take his hand in one of his own, the other settling on Eddie’s waist.

_ “Best in Show,”  _ Richie tells him.

_ “Best in Show,”  _ Eddie echoes. “That’s what you’re about to witness. I’m gonna be horrible.”

“Can’t be any worse than me,” Richie says. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, is that a  _ challenge?” _

The glint in Eddie’s eye says if it wasn’t a challenge before, it very much is now. His own free hand settles on Richie’s shoulder and lets him guide them into a shitty not-waltz for their first dance.

“This is truly horrible,” Eddie comments gravely, tipping his head down to look at his feet as they move. Richie laughs before he ducks to kiss Eddie on the cheek, pulling his attention back up. “Richie, I’m doing  _ horribly.” _

“Alright, I’m calling in the reinforcements,” Richie tells him. He breaks away from Richie to motion in Stan’s direction. Riley screams, all but launching from Stan’s hold on her to spring across the small dance floor in the garden to them. She launches into Richie’s arms, braids and dress streaming behind her as he catches her and swings her around to settle on his hip.

Eddie hoists Nora up to sit on Richie’s shoulders before he picks up Audrey himself, letting her take his hand and jerk it vigorously back and forth, as if they were aggressively tangoing, even though he’s holding her up several feet off the ground.

“Now, see, this isn’t even dancing,” Eddie comments over the music and their daughters’ shouts to Richie. Richie laughs.

“Isn’t it great?” Richie agrees. Eddie grins, leaning over Audrey’s head to kiss Richie again. Ezra collides with one of Richie’s shins and breaks the bubble around them, but Richie’s almost excited for it. It means the reception can start in full swing.

He barely gets to eat any of the food they’ve picked out, but he does get to taste the cake when Eddie smashes an entire fucking slice into his face. Richie had been expecting maybe a bite, but Eddie just takes the plate they’re handed with the slice on it and turns it right around to plant in the dead-center of Richie’s face.

“You are such a  _ shit,”  _ Richie gasps. Eddie’s laughing so hard his face is red; Richie can’t help but grin, too, as he grabs Eddie by the lapels of his suit jacket and tugs him in for a kiss. He smears cake and frosting all over Eddie’s face in the process, too, making him shriek and squirm, wriggling to get away with him for show while he actually pushes in closer.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, under the bright sun, surrounded by blooming flowers and their closest friends and family. Richie wipes a line of cake away from Eddie’s mouth so he can kiss him properly.

“I love you so fucking much,” Richie says, his voice breaking again partway through. Eddie cups his face in his hand, cake everywhere. That alone is a testament to how far Eddie has come.

Patty cleans their faces off with makeup wipes from her purse before she lets them back into the crowd, and the whole afternoon is a blur. Richie doesn’t know how many people he dances with, how many people congratulate them, but he knows exactly how many times he dances with Eddie. He knows exactly how many times they lock eyes from across the park’s reception hall, or from across the garden when they migrate outside, because he remembers each one with clarity in the blur that is their reception as a whole.

They don’t have to do much to clean up, so Richie takes the job of getting the girls into their carseats when everything is over. They’ve all fallen asleep, so it’s not hard to get them into the car, but it takes some maneuvering to buckle them in. The difficult part comes when he has to get Eddie.

Just like the girls, Eddie’s conked out, mostly-asleep at their head table. He’s gotten half a plate of food, and Richie eats a couple of bites of fish off of it before nudging Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Richie tells him. “I know it’s been a real boring afternoon, but I gotta getcha home now.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles blearily. He lifts his head and yawns, then stands, wobbling a bit. Richie turns around and crouches down. There’s a beat of silence. Then, Eddie asks, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking you to the car,” Richie says. “Hop on, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie seems to hesitate, but then he climbs up onto Richie’s back. Richie hooks his hands under Eddie’s thighs and hoists him up so he’s settled over his hips; Eddie buries his face in Richie’s broad back and yawns. Both their jackets are long since abandoned and crumpled in the trunk of their car with the rest of the odds and ends they’re bringing up with them. They’ve both got their sleeves rolled up past the elbows; Richie rolled up the cuffs on his suit pants at some point, too, and he can feel the breeze against his ankles as he walks.

Eddie lifts his head a bit to hook his chin over Richie’s shoulder. Richie squeezes his thighs.

“How’s it feel to be married?” Richie asks.

“I’ve been married most of my life,” Eddie reminds him. “Including yesterday.”

“To who?” Richie demands, faux-outraged. Eddie huffs a laugh, turning his face into Richie’s warm throat. “I just mean, how do you feel now?”

“Mm,” Eddie hums lightly, still sleepy. “I feel really good. This is way better than the last one.”

“Glowing praise.”

“Shut up.” Eddie wraps his arms around to Richie’s front, slipping his hand between the buttons of his dress shirt to slide across his chest and undershirt beneath. “I mean that I felt kinda miserable even during my last wedding. I knew it wasn’t right, I guess.” Eddie’s thumb rubs over Richie’s heart slowly. “This feels really right.”

Richie swallows. He turns his head a bit to kiss Eddie’s hair.

“Same here.”

“How do you feel now?” Eddie asks. “First wedding, you know, that’s a big deal, nothing to sneeze at.”

“And my  _ only _ wedding,” Richie adds. He can feel Eddie’s smile on his skin. “I’ve always wanted this. It’s kinda still blowing my mind that I’ve got it.”

Eddie’s quiet at that. Richie lets him take it in as he makes it the rest of the way to their car. By the time they make it and Richie’s letting Eddie down to get in, he finally says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Richie asks.

“All of this,” Eddie says. “My life.”

_ “Our  _ life,” Richie amends. Eddie catches Richie in a kiss before they can separate again. “Thank  _ you.” _

“I wanna go  _ home,”  _ Audrey calls from inside the car. Eddie smiles, turning to look over his shoulder through the back window of their car.

Just like this morning, Richie takes a moment to preserve this memory in his mind. He can see their daughters through the windows; Riley is still conked out, all dead weight as her limbs dangle in her seat, but Nora’s staring at them and Audrey’s actively trying to break free of her seat. Eddie’s whole face is bright and warm as he looks to check in on them, his shirt rumpled, his hair a sweaty mess.

“Thank you,” Richie says again. Eddie turns back and smiles at the dopey grin he catches on Richie’s face.

_ “Soon!”  _ Audrey shouts inside the car.

“You be patient!” Richie calls back. “I’m flirting with your father!”

“You’re  _ married!”  _ Audrey shouts.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Richie agrees, pulling Eddie in by his hips to kiss him deep again, feeling Eddie’s smile when he does.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicole__mello](https://twitter.com/nicole__mello) (new @!) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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